


Abomination

by Vigs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: F/M, Imprisonment, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vigs/pseuds/Vigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Abomination survived the fight in New York, but is anything left of Emil Blonsky? An escort hired by the military to keep him cooperative may be able to find it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tests

**Author's Note:**

> Reworked repost from fanfiction.net.

_ A secure location one hour outside Washington, DC _

Defeat.

Emil was familiar, sickeningly familiar, with the feeling. He had thought that after turning himself into this _ thing _ he would never have to feel it again.

They picked him up with tethers dangling under a helicopter, like he was a fucking beached whale or something. He could have stopped them. He could have killed every damn one of them. But why bother? It wouldn’t change anything.

They already had a place to put him. (It had been meant for the Hulk, of course. He was just a consolation prize.) It was a cylindrical room with walls and floor of sheer bedrock. Above him, far out of reach, was a giant, whirling fan. He assumed that they could pump in whatever kind of gas they wanted, to try to keep him quiet.

It wasn’t a bad design. It wouldn’t have held the Hulk, though, he felt certain. Not for long.

Right now, a room made of tissue paper would have held the Abomination. That was what they’d decided to call him, apparently. He assumed that the official story was that Emil Blonsky was dead. They would have had to look pretty hard to find a next of kin to inform. His sister had probably gotten the call. Maybe she’d taken a moment for quiet reflection before moving on with her life.

Days passed...probably. They hadn’t given him a clock. He sat passively on the floor of his stone cylinder, naked and huge, allowing technicians to poke and prod him ineffectively. They probably wanted a fluid sample, but there was no way to get one. Eventually, one nervous technician even tried to put a needle into his eye, probably hoping it would provide less resistance than his skin. It slid right off. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t painful, either. His corneas were as close to invulnerable as everything else.

That is, not close enough.

They left him alone for a while after that. They’d presented him with food and water, but he’d ignored it. What he really wanted was a beer, but he was probably immune to alcohol now, too.

Eventually, the general showed up in person. The first words out of his mouth were “On your feet, soldier.”

Well. Why not. Had to give the man some credit for barking orders at someone who could have turned him into jelly. And he was still a superior officer. Emil lumbered to his feet. There was none of the pain that should have come with holding one position for...however long it had been.

“Report, Blonsky.”

“Sir. acting without orders or authorization, I coerced Dr. Sterns into exposing me to Banner’s blood and to gamma radiation.” His voice sounded unfamiliar. Alien, beastial. “I then attempted to engage Banner. His strength appears to vary with the level of emotion he experiences. For this reason, I advise against direct confrontation in the future.”  _ He will always win. _

“Why did you do it?”

He was silent.

“I asked you a question, soldier!”

“Underlying mental instability exacerbated by so-called ‘super soldier’ serum.”

“You killed civilians, Blonsky. American civilians.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You tried to kill me. And my daughter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you aren’t killing me now. And you didn’t kill the technicians. Why?”

“If you’re the most powerful, the rules don’t apply to you. If you’re not, they do.”

“That’s some fucked-up logic, Blonsky.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you change back?”

“Haven’t tried, sir.”

“Try.”

Emil closed his eyes. He wasn’t entirely certain how to try. He thought about shrinking, going back to his old shape, his old face, his old skin...

“Today, Blonsky,” the general snapped, and without knowing how, he did it.

When he opened his eyes, he was looking slightly up at the general, not down.

“Good man,” the general said crisply. “Right, we’ll get the technicians back in here to take some samples. Can’t let you out, I’m sure you understand, but we can get some furniture in here. The suits wanted to send down a head-shrinker. I told them to let me give it a crack first, but if you want one now…?”

“No, sir.”

“Right.” He clapped his hands together sharply. “Do what you’re told, don’t kill anyone, and we’ll see about getting you some privileges. Better food, a TV, the works.”

“Don’t suppose the US Army would get me a beer and a woman.” That was what he needed, not some damn psychologist.

“Beer for sure. I’ll see what I can do about the other.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The general clapped him on the shoulder, and he actually felt it.

“General,” Emil called, as the general turned to climb back up the rope ladder. “If they do send me a shrink, I’ll kill him.”

The general nodded once, then climbed out of the hole.   
  


The tests seemed neverending. Blood samples, stool samples, bone marrow. Before and after running on a treadmill, before and after changing forms. How quickly could he change forms (at least a few times an hour). Were there circumstances under which he would change involuntarily (yes, any injury bad enough to send him into shock--that had not been a fun test.)

Every time they did a test, they would give him something--a bed, a couch, a lamp. Before long, his cylinder looked more like a cramped apartment than a modernized dungeon. Pipes too fragile for him to climb in his true form snaked up the wall, providing plumbing for a modest WC. They’d given him beer and, when that proved ineffective, hard liquor, but it didn’t do anything for him. Neither did the painkillers they tried on him later, even at a dosage that should have killed a man twice his size.

It was hard to sleep at night. He wasn’t used to sleeping completely sober, without even the exhaustion of waning adrenaline after a day of action.

He hadn’t wanted to get to know the technicians who spent so much time poking at him, but they were his only human contact. They wouldn’t tell him their names or call him by his. The most personable technician was the one who had been brave enough to try to jab a needle in the Abomination’s eye. Emil called him Doc. He called Emil A. The rest of them just called him sir to his face, and probably Abomination behind his back.

As time passed, the tests became more and more esoteric. Different poisons. Samples of his sweat, bile, and even semen. At least for that one they gave him a porn DVD and a cup and left him to it; he’d been worried they’d do it with a cattle prod up the arse, or something.

“What’s the word, Doc?” he asked when five technicians returned the next day. “How’re my abominable little swimmers doing?”

“Not great, A,” Doc admitted. “Looks like you’re sterile.”

“Oh, what a bloody shame. And here I was thinking what a great place this would be to raise a family.” He gestured at his cell around them.

“On the bright side, we did find out that it’s not radioactive enough to be seriously dangerous, unlike your blood.”

“Well. Nonfatal jizz. What more could a man ask for. What’ve you brought me this time?”

“They want us to start testing your mental capabilities, to see whether those have changed.” Doc pulled out a folder full of papers. “IQ test, personality test--”

“I hate tests,” he snapped.

“Sorry, A. The boys upstairs say you’re taking tests now.”

“What’s my bribe today?”

“Got you a couple more DVDs and some chocolate bars.”

“Chocolate bars.” He felt an echo of the cold rage from the first few days after he’d gotten the serum injections. “Bloody chocolate bars.”

Doc’s face changed into a professional mask. He stank gratifyingly of fear.

“There’s a limit to how much they can do for you. Is there something else you’d like instead?”

“Yes,” he growled. “I asked for a woman.”

“They can’t--”

“Can’t? Can’t? You mean the same way they can’t shoot me full of experimental drugs, declare me dead, and keep me here indefinitely?”

“Please calm down--”

“Oh, I’m calm,” Emil said. He felt still and cold like a mountain on the verge of an avalanche. “I’m perfectly fucking calm. But that won’t do you any good, because I’m not Bruce bloody Banner.”

He changed.

When the change had finished, two of the technicians were already scrambling up the rope ladder. He grabbed it with one hand and yanked, whirled, sent both of them smashing into the wall with the  _ crunch _ of breaking bones.

Doc was still standing on the ground, masking his fear, trying to talk the Abomination down.

“I respect your courage, little man,” Emil said. “You get to live.”

The other two he crushed, snapping their spines, savoring their screams.

His handlers, above, were just watching. They knew that there was nothing they could do. If he tried to escape, if it looked like he’d make it, they would probably blow up the whole place. Until then, their safest move was to appease him.

He liked that.

He changed back, nude and covered in blood.

“No tests today,” he told Doc flatly. “Get someone to clean this place up. After that, the next person I see climb down that ladder I’m either killing or fucking. Got it?”

“Got it,” Doc whispered.

Emil turned his back on the terrified man and took a long, hot shower.


	2. Valerie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of non-con, but nothing nonconsensual occurs (although it could be argued that the consent given is not fully informed.)

Emil was entirely alone for a few days after that. It was, he had to admit, lonely as hell. He didn’t exactly regret killing those technicians, but it turned out that solitary confinement was actually worse than taking tests. And a chocolate bar would have been a nice change from the bland meals they lowered down to him.

“It’s not that I dislike chocolate,” he commented to one of the more obvious cameras. “It’s just a bit weak as a bribe, don’t you think? Chocolate bars and a few movies, when I’m probably never going to see the sky again.”

He wondered who was on the other end of it. Probably that shrink he’d told the general he’d kill.

“I’d prefer someone with big tits, but it’s not a must,” he added.

He wondered what was going on above his head. Were they waiting for him to break down and take back his threat? Were they trying to talk someone with the appropriate security clearance into lying back and thinking of America?

He found that he didn’t actually like that idea much. Better if they found him a whore and then got her a security clearance. He didn’t particularly like to imagine forcing himself on someone’s terrified assistant.

The idea bothered him a lot, actually. More than thinking of the people he’d killed. Killing was part of being a soldier, but rape...well, historically, maybe, but it had never been for him. He’d run a good, clean unit, too. His boys kept their hands to themselves or they were out.

He would look weak if he tried to clarify that now. He decided to wait and see who they sent him.

How would he look if they sent him someone and he sent her back unfucked? He smiled to himself. He would look like he was a better person than they were, that was what. That should really drive them nuts. And as long as they sent him someone, they were giving in to his demand. Acknowledging his power. He could afford to be magnanimous.

He’d definitely prefer not to have to do that, though. He wanted to be touched by someone who wasn’t holding a syringe and a clipboard.

It felt like forever, but according to his shiny new clock he only went a little more than a week without any human contact. He was sitting in front of the telly in sweatpants and a t-shirt when he heard the fan turn off and Doc’s voice filter down.

“A? We’re sending someone down. Like you asked.”

He jumped to his feet, suddenly feeling absurdly nervous. He’d showered recently, but he didn’t have a mirror down in his cave. He knew that his face was covered in stubble, his hair was long and unruly, and...shite, did he still look like he had after that last injection but before the radiation? Like a bony corpse?

He got his hair into what felt like some semblance of order, then turned to examine the woman who was currently descending the ladder. She was having some trouble with it, which was sort of reassuring; she wasn’t military. He couldn’t see much from his position other than a big, round ass in tight jeans.

That was promising.

When she got to the bottom of the ladder, she approached him with a nervous smile and held out her hand.

“Hi. I’m Valerie. They, uh, wouldn’t tell me your name. What should I call you?”

“Call me Emil,” he said, shaking her hand. She was cute and busty, about his height and a bit on the chubby side, with short brown hair and dark brown eyes behind businesslike glasses. Her low-cut shirt was much less businesslike. “Pleased to meet you.”

“They didn’t tell me you were British, either,” she said, her smile becoming slightly more stable. It was a nice smile. He could imagine all sorts of better uses for that mouth, but the smile was a good start.

“What did they tell you?” he asked, releasing her hand and moving back to sit on the couch.

“Not a lot,” she said, sitting beside him. “They said I’m only supposed to stay for an hour, but that I can come back for another hour tonight if you take some sort of test first. And they said that there are cameras that’ll be watching us the whole time, but the videos will be classified.” The idea seemed to amuse her.

He nodded. “Anything about me?”

“You’re dangerous, but you have no history of intimate partner violence. You’re sterile and have no STIs, but I’ll have to take anti-radiation drugs each time I see you. You like big boobs.” She grinned.

“They told you that?” he asked, laughing. This was the most personable conversation he’d had in months. He hadn’t realized how good it would feel. “Or did you ask?”

“I asked about the intimate partner violence and whether they knew anything about your preferences.” She chuckled, and he realized it was the first laugh he’d heard since coming here. “I thought that stiff-necked soldier was going to die when he had to tell me you ‘prefer large breasts.’ They also said that you’re stronger than you look, and you could hurt me accidentally, but probably not badly. I don’t mind a little pain.”

“Did they tell you why I’m in here?” She didn’t mind a little pain. That was good. He’d always been a fan of the rough stuff, and with his new strength, that could get extreme without him really intending it to.

“I assume it has something to do with why I need to take anti-radiation drugs,” she said, her smile fading.

“Something,” he agreed. “And you’re feeling all right with this?”

“Yes, I am,” she said, looking into his eyes seriously. “I appreciate you asking.”

“Well, then come sit on my lap, darlin’,” he said with a grin, patting his thigh.

She smiled and raised an eyebrow, then turned on the couch, sliding one of her legs over his until she was straddling him.

“Like this?” she asked, reaching a hand up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. The heat of her fingers, her solid weight on his legs, felt more real than anything had since that first injection.

“That’s about what I had in mind,” he agreed. “But that can’t be comfortable in jeans. Get up and strip for me, lovely.”

She stood up and glanced nervously at the ceiling. They both knew there were people watching, although he knew it was more likely that they were peering through the camera in the base of the telly.

“Ignore them,” he told her. “Just you and me here.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she gave him a seductive smile that sent bolts of electricity through his nerves. He needed this. He needed her.

Some time later, Emil collapsed against Valerie on the bed, spasming erratically as he returned to lucidity. Valerie stroked his back and the back of his head soothingly.

“Good God,” he murmured, his lips still pressed against her neck.

“You’re telling me,” she said, kissing his temple. “Can you let me move my legs, please?”

He rolled off her. With a twinge of guilt, he took in the red marks on her shoulders and wrists and the way she winced when she moved her legs down to a more natural position.

“That was incredible,” she said with a happy sigh. She nestled against him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he gathered her into his arms, pressing his face into her hair. She was soft and smelled of sex and woman.

“You have a clock down here?” she murmured. “They told me they want me back up top by 1400.” She emphasized the military time like it was a novelty.

“Yeah,” he said, craning his neck to get a look. “Looks like it’s 1340.” He tightened his arms around her. Twenty minutes was too short a time.

“Will you want me to come back tonight, if you finish your tests?”

“Yes.” He immediately wished he’d tried to feign indifference. They were listening, they would have heard his automatic eagerness. The first truly friendly face he’d seen and the first non-intrusive touch he’d felt in months. The first woman he’d had in even longer. She was his weak point now. They could threaten to take her away from him.

They could tell her what he really was, and then send her back to him, scared and unwilling.

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?” he asked.

“Other than making classified porn? Not really,” she admitted. “But they’re paying me a boatload of money.”

“Good. You earned it.”

She kissed him on the temple.


	3. Weakness

Emil hadn’t realized how unbearably lonely his imprisonment was before he had anything to compare it to. Now, Valerie’s visits broke up the solitude. One hour every other day, or two days in a row if the tests were particularly bad. An hour: enough time for them to have the most urgent, passionate sex of his life, and then just barely start a comfortable conversation. She always had to leave before they got far.

A few times, he considered skipping the sex the next time he saw her, so that they would have some time to just talk. He needed it too much, though. And he didn’t want the boys upstairs to think he wanted her around for more than just sex.

She offered him a backrub one day, while they were floating in a postcoital haze.

“I’ve studied massage therapy,” she told him. “And you seem like you could use some relaxation.”

Emil rolled over wordlessly. He knew that his spine was a jagged line of bony knobs, protruding so far that they almost broke through the skin. He could hear Valerie breathe in sharply when she saw it--she wasn’t behind him very often--but she ran comforting hands along his back.

“Your physiology is a little bit different,” she said matter-of-factly. “Some of your muscles don’t seem to be quite where I’d expect them to be. Let me know if I do anything that feels uncomfortable or painful, okay?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. Something about her straightforwardness made his eyes water.

Her hands were soft and firm, smoothing out the tension he hadn’t realized was in his neck and shoulders. She ran them along his spine, carefully at first, then more confidently, working her thumbs into the hollows between knobs.

“How does that feel?” she asked.

“Heavenly,” he admitted. He felt her shift positions, bending to place careful kisses along his back.

When their time was almost up, he walked her to the base of the ladder. Valerie hugged him close, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she whispered in his ear. “But if you want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

He pulled back and looked into her eyes, trying to convey his gratitude with his expression alone, then kissed her deeply.

He couldn’t actually tell her his story, of course, he reflected as he watched her climb out of his hole. There was no real way to gloss over the part where he wrecked Harlem and killed...he actually had no idea how many he’d killed. That hadn’t bothered him before.

It was good of her to offer, though.

 

The rage resurfaced unexpectedly a few weeks after that. He’d been down in the hole for six months at that point. His restlessness had increased to the point that he only slept on nights after a visit from Valerie. Other nights he spent pacing his confines, feeling like a zoo animal.

“Spinal fluid sample day,” Doc announced after one sleepless night. “Your favorite.”

“I want two hours with Valerie,” he snarled. “At least.”

Doc backed up, and the other two technicians edged towards the ladder. Emil felt a cold pleasure from their fear, starting right at his diaphragm and moving into his chest.

“Valerie called last night and said she can’t come today,” Doc said cautiously. “She’s sick.”

“Sick,” he repeated tonelessly. The coldness filled his chest and stomach, spreading out to his limbs.

“We can postpone spinal day,” Doc said hastily. “Just let all three of us up that ladder and you can have three hours with her as soon as she’s better. Okay, A?”

“I didn’t know you had the authority to make that kind of call.”

“I’m sure they’ll approve it.” Doc nodded to the others, who began to scramble up the ladder.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” Emil said. Everything felt very clear and crisp.

“See what?”

“You’re not just a technician. You’re a bloody shrink. Admit it.”

“A--”

“Admit it or I’ll take your fucking head off right now.”

Doc hesitated, then nodded.

“You know what I told the General I’d do if they sent a shrink?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” Doc said. “But we needed to monitor your mental state, A. It’s just as important as your physical state.”

“What’s my mental state right now?”

“Murderous.”

“Got it in one. How would you like to die, Doc?” The cold was all the way out to his fingertips and down to his toes now. He’d felt like this when he threatened Sterns into irradiating him. When he’d wrecked a nice chunk of New York.

“Valerie wouldn’t want you to kill me.”

“You think I give a fuck?”

“I know you do.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Then Emil started to change.

If Doc had tried to run, it would have been the last thing he ever did. But he just backed up a few feet, giving Emil enough room to grow. To expand.

He grabbed Doc by the collar and picked him up, holding him above his head.

“Still trying to be brave?” he asked sneeringly. Doc didn’t answer. The Abomination tossed the smaller man at the ceiling, trying to look careless, but actually ensuring that he would hit the ladder near the top. He didn’t check to see whether he made it, but he didn’t hear the crunch of bones against the concrete floor, so he probably did.

The coldness had expanded with him, filling his entire gargantuan body. He methodically destroyed every piece of furniture in the room. The telly made a particularly satisfying smash.

He hesitated slightly before destroying the bed, remembering all the time he’d spent there with Valerie, but they had to know that they couldn’t control him. It ended up matchsticks, like everything else. He ripped the sheets to shreds, tore his clothes, smashed every lightbulb and especially every camera, wrenched the plumbing from the walls. Nothing warmed him.

Hours later--or so he thought; he’d destroyed the clock--he was in his smaller form again, sitting naked amid the ruins of his prison. His freezing rage was finally ebbing him away, leaving him with the more mundane cold of sitting unprotected on a stone floor underground.

Above him, he heard a faint voice. “Emil? Is it okay if I come down?”

Valerie. They’d gone and gotten her.

“Yes,” he called up. “It’s alright.”

He could see a spot of brightness descending the ladder. As she got closer, it resolved into a clip-on light attached to the collar of her shirt. She was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants today, not the more flattering clothes he usually saw her in, and her hair was a mess.

“Where are you?” she called when she got to the bottom.

“Over here, darlin’. Watch your step.”

She carefully picked her way towards him through the wreckage. “I’ve got strep throat,” she said, “So you probably don’t want to kiss me.”

“I always want to kiss you.” He was probably immune to most diseases anyway. Most bacteria don’t like being irradiated.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Informed consent, and all. Whoops!” She almost tripped over a piece of PVC pipe, but caught herself.

“Did they tell you what happened?” he asked.

“They told me not to ask.” Her voice had a note of anxiety. He wasn’t sure whether she was worried about him, or scared of him.

“You shouldn’t listen to them.”

“Well, you can tell me if you want.”

He didn’t.

When she got to him, she raised a hand to her mouth, looking concerned. Well, he was sitting naked amid the rubble of everything he owned, so that made sense.

“I’m all right,” he said. “Come here.” It came out as more of a command than he had intended. He needed to feel her.

She was warm, so warm. Hot, actually. At first he thought it was the contrast with his surroundings, but then he realized that she felt too warm. He tilted her head towards him and saw that her face was pale and her eyes were glassy.

“Oh, darlin’. You have a fever.”

“Yeah. I took some advil. And I’m on antibiotics, so it should go away soon. Have I told you I love how you say dah-lin?”

“You shouldn’t be sitting in the cold with me.”

She shrugged. “They told me it was an emergency. Showed up at my apartment and demanded that I get in the car, actually. But they gave me a pretty sizeable pile of cash, so.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad I could be here for you.” She nestled in close to him, shivering. “And it’s just strep throat. I’ve had it a bunch of times before.”

“You’re cold. I’m sorry, none of my blankets made it.”

“That’s okay. You’re warming me up.”

He pressed his cold lips to her too-hot forehead and didn’t answer.

“Hey, Emil?” she said quietly.

“Yes, dahhhhlin’?” he responded, playing up his accent. He’d hoped to make her laugh, but she didn’t respond.

“Did you know that they ask me to report on you, every time I see you?” There was an edge of nervousness in her voice.

He sighed. “I hadn’t thought about it, but I’m not surprised. They’re always watching, anyway.”

“Do you want me to stop telling them things?”

“What do they usually ask?”

“How would I describe your emotional state. How would I describe your feelings towards me. Did you cause me any pain, and if so, was it intentional. Did you seem to be in any pain yourself. That kind of thing.”

He could picture it, Valerie being interrogated by a bunch of military stuffed shirts. Maybe even the General, asking her to describe Emil’s feelings for her, his lip curling up on the word ‘feelings.’

“What do you say?” he asked.

“I tell them you seem bored and restless. You seem to be pretty fond of me…” she glanced at him as though looking for confirmation “...and you definitely enjoy the sex. You’ve never seemed like you’re physically in pain to me, and I don’t think you’ve ever intentionally done anything to me that I didn’t like.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“A few times they’ve asked me what you or I said at particular times when they couldn’t hear us. I told them, the first couple times, but after that, I started saying it was private.”

“And they just let it go?” he asked, skeptical.

“They offered me more money. I turned it down. They saw I was serious after that.” She gave him a half-smile. “Professional ethics.”

“They’re not the types to let things go,” he said.

“No, they aren’t. But they’re afraid of you, aren’t they?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” she said.

“I never thought you were.” The fever was sure making her talkative.

“I don’t ask you things, because I don’t want to be rude, but I can put things together. You’re the one who did this, right?” She indicated their wrecked surroundings. “You, or something inside of you.”

“A little bit of both,” he acknowledged.

“They’re using me to control you.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

He laughed bitterly. “You shouldn’t be. You don’t know what I’d be doing if they weren’t controlling me.”

She didn’t seem to have an answer for that one, he noted with cold satisfaction.

“Go ahead and keep reporting to them,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

She sounded relieved. Well, it was tough facing down the army, and she was weak. It wasn’t a word he’d applied to her before, but it was true.

He pulled away from her and stood up, turning his back on her.

“You should leave,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, confused. She pulled herself to her feet. “I just got here--”

“I don’t want you here. Go home.” She was making him weak.

“Okay, Emil,” she said quietly. She reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder blade, but he pulled away.

“Don’t come back until you’re healthy,” he snapped.

“Coming in sick wasn’t my idea, you know,” she responded indignantly.

“Well, tell the bastards up top that there’s no point sending me a whore who’s too sick to fuck.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him, like an auditory flinch. Both of them stood in silence for a moment. Then the sound of footsteps, fading into the distance, told him that she was gone.

Emil sat on the cold stone floor and resumed staring out into the darkness.


End file.
